


1975

by Timcampi



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mystery, Thriller, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:45:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timcampi/pseuds/Timcampi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Seeing his name being changed to Jean Kirschstein on all the documents and paperwork that would accompany him in his life change troubled him, and he was more than sure that this change of identity in which the events had brought him would have a very negative effect on his social life and his fortitude.<br/>He had changed the city, had been forced to abandon the idea of studying in the quiet and convenient university a few steps from home to join the big, chaotic Sina University, and had left behind his family and his friends to find placement in a small manor on the outskirts of the city, usually rented to college students.<br/>He hesitated for a moment, before ringing the doorbell of his new home."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jean Kirschstein

**Jean Kirschstein**

 

Seeing his name being changed to Jean Kirschstein on all the documents and paperwork that would accompany him in his life change troubled him, and he was more than sure that this change of identity in which the events had brought him would have a very negative effect on his social life and his fortitude.

He had changed the city, had been forced to abandon the idea of studying in the quiet and convenient university a few steps from home to join the big, chaotic Sina University, and had left behind his family and his friends to find placement in a small manor on the outskirts of the city, usually rented to college students.

He hesitated for a moment, before ringing the doorbell of his new home.

Preceded by a considerable noise, a quite short, bald guy wearing rubber gloves and with his forehead beaded with sweat ran to open the door.

«I'm sorry it took me so much, buddy, today it was my turn to give the toilet a clean. Are you the newbie? I'm Connie, Connie Springer» the young man introduced himself holding out his right hand with a crooked accommodating smile.

Jean appraised the situation carefully before tighten it, as if afraid of being burned: starting with the wrong foot would undoubtedly have been a bad move for someone who was trying to rebuild his life after putting at serious risk. Consequently, the fact that the boy's hand could have unclogged one or a thousand toilets was irrelevant.

«Jean Kirschstein»

It was the first time he introduced himself with that name, but when Connie repeated it aloud, as if to weigh it, he found himself thinking that it didn't fit him so bad.

Connie hastily invited him to come in, closing the door behind him and taking charge of one of his two suitcases.

«Gosh, how heavy! What the hell did you put in here? A corpse?» he muttered, before beckoning him. He was relieved to realize that, at first glance, he could feel the home-like atmosphere: the small living room was furnished in a bit kitsch but very cozy way, books scattered on the table, a vase filled with ugly fake flowers, a bright orange pouf, the inviting smell of grilled chicken, chips and something sweet that he could not recognize, music coming from upstairs.

To gain access to his room was necessary to go to the kitchen.

«It's the new guy?» chirped the girl they found struggling with a dough that Jean hoped would become more inviting, when baked. The smell he couldn't recognize came from that.

«He's Jean. Jean, meet Sasha. You'll have to cross her kingdom every time you go to your room»

When Jean shook the second hand of the day, he found it surprisingly strong and rough, and pleasantly cool.

«I hope you like cheesecake, Jean» Sasha smiled.

Cheesecake. That was it.

His room, the only remaining free, was small, well-lit and quite bare to stimulate his latent creativity: he imagined the walls full of posters and notes, the radio on, a lava lamp on the nightstand.

Perhaps he had been hasty in rejecting the prospect of a new life before its beginning.

«Tell me, buddy, where are you registered?» Connie asked, leaving the suitcase over the threshold.

«Engineering»

«Woah, Marco told me it's so hard. I study Law, as Sasha. By the way, would you like to meet you new mates?»

The first room they visited, upstairs, was clean and tidy: books and papers stacked neatly on the shelves, heavy dumbbells neatly lined up next to the desk, a poster on which were drawn the skeletal structure and muscular system glued to a wall, a nice clean scent. Sitting at his desk and leaning over a volume proportional to its considerable height, there was a melancholic and a little emaciated guy, who introduced himself as Berthold Fubar; lying on the bed, with a pair of thick reading glasses on the tip of the nose and a notepad filled with notes in his hands, there was the guy Jean supposed to be the owner of those dumbbells, a young man with lethal hand shake and friendly manners, called Reiner Braun.

The second room -Jean was pleased to note it - was occupied by three girls. The lower level of the bunk bed, surrounded by photographs, reserves of food and clothes piled in disorder, belonged to Sasha, the girl of the cheesecake; a girl with Asian features jumped from the top; she showed off an athletic physique and a great raven hair .

«Jean Kirschstein» said Jean, enthusiastic, reaching out a hand to the other, who completely ignored it.

«Mikasa Ackerman» she said, before turning to Connie. «Does Reiner still need my dumbbells?» asked, passing Jean and heading for the next room without waiting for an answer.

The third tenant was comfortably lying on the bed that leaned against the opposite wall, her blond hair gathered behind the neck and a large book open on her abdomen.

«Annie, he's Jean»

«Enchanted» she grumbled, turned back to her reading.

Connie closed the door with a shrug and a hint of a laugh.

«Ah, buddy, trust me, the advantage of this situation is this: you can be sure they'll let you study in peace, if you know what I mean; you know, sometimes they're a little scary, and you haven't seen the worst yet. But don't worry, they all are nice people.»

«The... worst?» Jean murmured in a low voice, trying not to imagine a female energumen with glowing eyes, with a barbell in her hands and a knife between her teeth.

The music that he had heard entering the house was coming out of the room in front of the girls', and it was so deafening that Jean wondered to himself why no one used to get mad at the stereo's owner.

«We've got used to this. If we yell at her she turns up the volume. We are considering the idea of smashing that stereo on her head, though» Connie said, almost reading his mind, then he opened the door without knocking.

Maybe it was not a female energumen, the one sitting on the unmade bed, wearing only a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a pair of boxers, busy scribbling something, but Jean could not help but think he had gone close.

While the right side of the room was papered with drawings and photographs, badges and puppets, on the left were proudly displayed posters depicting musical groups with illegible names, many of them unknown to Jean, messy sketches and clothes thrown everywhere in bulk. The whole thing was topped off with a massive amount of books, records and comics that, judging from their position, the two roommates maybe shared.

«What the fuck, Connie, don't you know how to knock? Here we are fucking ladies» yelled the girl, trying to drown out the din of the music. «And he is...? The newbie? I expected worse»

«The newbie?»

Another girl had emerged from behind the open door of the cabinet. Petite, pale, refined traits: all that her roommate was not. «Christa Renz, nice to meet you. I hope you'll be okay here; we're a little rickety family... A sort of» she trilled, shaking Jean's hand. She smelled of spices and cocoa.

«What the hell is this stuff?» asked Connie, plugging his ears with his hands.

«ACϟDC, kid» said the taller girl.

«And who the fuck are they?»

«Oh, shut up and get off my way, peeled boy. Go back to your Bee Gees and don't fuck with me» she barked, leaping out of the bed to snap a resounding kiss on her friend's cheek and rudely slam the door.

«Ymir» Connie sighed. And Jean did not dare to ask for more. 

Then he showed him the room he shared with two mates.

«Eren and Armin are not at home, you'll meet them at dinner time» he said, pointing to the bunk bed the two comrades occupied.

When they got back downstairs, Jean was about to leave and go back to his own room, but Connie stopped him: «There's still one»

«He wanted this room because he needs to focus. I told you, Engineering here is pretty tough» he said, as they descended the steps from the living room to the basement, where Jean saw for the first time the door to the room of the guy who had been designated by the name of Marco.

Jean had no difficulty in understanding why the boy chose that room although it was not well-lit: it was silent, and nothing came, nor the smell of the food, nor that ACϟDC's stuff. It was an absolutely perfect place to study in peace. Stooped on the desk, hunched over a thick tome with yellowed pages, there was the guy with the most peaceful face than he had ever met.

«Marco, he is Jean... How was it?»

«Kirschstein. Jean Kirschstein» Jean said, automatically.

A slightly olive, soft and tapered hand was held out to him

«Marco Bodt. It's a great pleasure to meet you, Jean» replied the boy, raising his cheeks studded with freckles in a serene smile. «I hope you'll enjoy this place, and that we will become good friends»

«We'd better. We'll follow the same courses, I suppose it would be useful to have another head to count on. For both of us» said Jean, hoping in his heart he would not need too often to take advantage of the kindness of that guy, and at the same time hoping that guy would not take his statement as an invitation to buzz around him.

«Feel free to rely on me any time you want» Marco smiled.

Maybe -Jean thought- that new beginning was not bad at all.

Maybe.


	2. Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Despite its drawbacks, to live in that house was not all bad, as long as certain rules were respected: don't make too much noise, unless the fun involved everyone (Jean did not take long to learn that Ymir seemed authorized to violate this rule, and he really couldn't bear that); don't drink directly from the milk carton; don't spend too much time in the toilet; turn-take in regard to the care of the common areas, the kitchen and the trash; consider professional secrecy every confession received from a drunk fellow. There was, then, the unspoken rule about not commenting on Annie's nose, not trying to close contact with Christa and not picking fights with Eren Jaeger, son of their landlord; but this was more a reminder to Jean that a true rule."

**Debt**

 

Despite its drawbacks, to live in that house was not all bad, as long as certain rules were respected: don't make too much noise, unless the fun involved everyone (Jean did not take long to learn that Ymir seemed authorized to violate this rule, and he really couldn't bear that); don't drink directly from the milk carton; don't spend too much time in the toilet; turn-take in regard to the care of the common areas, the kitchen and the trash; consider professional secrecy every confession received from a drunk fellow. There was, then, the unspoken rule about not commenting on Annie's nose, not trying to close contact with Christa and not picking fights with Eren Jaeger, son of their landlord; but this was more a reminder to Jean that a true rule.

A touch of proud serenity shone at his heart when he found himself thinking about how, during the month spent in Sina, he had learned of that “rickety family”: things like the contrast between the massive structure and the friendly nature of Reiner, Sasha's obsession for food, the pale scars that covered Ymir's body and the girl seemed reluctant to talk about, the false peace that leaked from Mikasa's face and the passion for books that characterized Armin, with whom he had befriended in a short time, were part of his days, imbuing them so much that the boy decided it was time to get rid of the burden of his past and look forward.

But what, though, mostly excited him and filled his heart with hope hitherto unknown was the heartening and refreshing presence of the boy with freckles, aka Marco Bodt.

While most of his companions were boisterous, rowdy and always ready to sow discord, Marco was the peacemaker, the one who put an end to the fights before they started, who took care of his mates' problems if that could made someone else happy, that considered the study as sacred as friendship. At first, Jean had had some doubts about his sincerity and his perfect, friendly, good householder and talented fellow student behavior, these were soon dispelled completely, giving way to a much better relationship than he had dared to hope even before he was confronted with the daunting prospect of a radical upheaval of life.

He knocked on the door, nervously biting his lower lip.

Marco's gentle face appeared in the doorway, the thin reading glasses in front of his languid brown eyes, a wide smile and a colored striped pajamas.

«Are you studying?»

Maybe a “Sorry to trouble you" would have been nicer, but it was too late. Marco shook his head, raising the number of Daredevil clutched in one hand, with the index finger stuck in the middle to hold the sign.

«Nope, I'm off for a few days» he asserted. «If you have some difficulties, though, I'd be happy to help you. I already gave that exam and I have nothing much to do at the moment»

It was amazing how his friendliness could always amaze him. Although he seems too good, friendly and charismatic to be real, Marco had earned Jean's trust perhaps also due to the fact that, somehow, he could almost... sweeten his spirit. There was that strange feeling that flooded his stomach, like a warm gush, when he was with Marco, that confused him, but he did not mind at all: he would never admit that, but he was really, really glad to monopolize the company of that sort of frackled angel face.

Sometimes he even thanked the troubles that had taken him to that house.

«No, no, it's not that...» he muttered, lowering his eyes and absently rubbing the back of his neck.

«I need to concentrate, and those idiots up there won't let me study in peace...»

Marco interrupted him, raising a hand and touching his lips with the tip of his fingers.

«Understood. I will gladly exchange my room with yours until you've passed the exam, Jean»

«You're my savior. If I can repay you somehow...»

«We'll find a way for you to get free from your debt, Jean» smiled Marco, and Jean caught in that smile something that made a frightening amount of blood flow to his face.

«I'll go get my things» he said curtly, pausing in the doorway only to mutter a grateful "thank you".

«You have a debt» said Marco.

 

The steps that were approaching over the door were so excited and noisy to wake him up before the door was suddenly open, revealing a breathless and terrified Connie.

He had fallen asleep while studying, with the light of the lamp pointed on his cheek and a trickle of saliva sliding on the pages.

«Move your ass, Jean!» Connie barked. «This place is on fire!»

He needed a moment, before standing and following Connie on the stairs.

«What the fuck...?» he murmured in a whisper, his eyes riveted to the sight that loomed ahead.

A cloud of dense black smoke, flickering tongues of fire, ash and sparks propagated from the kitchen, and it looked like they were about to extend their dominance in the living room.

A jolt of Connie and a shelf that fell on the ground in a puff of fire woke him from his trance.

«Marco» he whispered, splashing through the the fire, ignoring the heated protests of Connie and the heat that burned on his skin soaked with sweat.

«Jean!»

_Marco._

«Come out, you moron!»

_Marco cannot be dead ._

«What the fuck are you doing?!»

_Don't play these jokes to me._

_Marco is alive._

«I'm gonna look for help, don't move!»

_Come on, I'll help you get out of this hell._

_I have a debt with him._

He did not feel his body getting weaker and weaker, but only the world becoming, little by little, gray.

_Marco, how can I ever repay you?_

 

When he opened his eyes, for a moment he thought he dreamed it all. He sat up, Marco's name sewn on his lips and flames still marked in the eye.

Not even gave himself time to realize to be laid out on a stretcher, behind the doors of an ambulance that were about to close, before rushing over them under the astonished gaze of the paramedics who had put him on board.

The firemen were already at work, and the flames had now turned into a silent column of smoke that rose against the night sky like a hypnotized snake.

In front of the house, fortunately almost completely intact and surrounded by a small crowd of dressing gowns, pajamas and annoying hum, there were the silhouettes of his companions. Helpless, silent, brittle and dull like autumn leaves soaked with rain.

They weren't hugging each other, crying, bent over the rubble of their idyll in ashes: they were side by side.

Connie, gritted teeth, his face greyish with smoke.

Sasha, her face streaked with silent tears.

Mikasa, arms folded, between Armin that was kneeling on the asphalt and Eren, fists clenched.

Christa seemed hypnotized by that horrid spectacle, Ymir's eyes were riveted on her while she shook her hand as if it was hard to believe she was really there.

«Where's Marco?»

His voice was hoarse, and that words scratched his throat. He could not suppress a powerful attack of coughing.

Sasha looked at him for a moment, as if she had seen a ghost, before rushing on his chest, sobbing against his pullover.

«Where are the others? Bert, Reiner, Annie...? Marco. Wheres's Marco?»

The boys looked at each other, and then Connie spoke: «When you fainted I called Reiner. He brought you out and managed to recover Annie, he found her in the kitchen, but now they took her away. She's in a coma, Reiner and Berthold went with her»

«Where is Marco?» repeated Jean. His voice was reduced to a low guttural growl.

Everyone's eyes drooped.

«Jean, Marco is dead» said Mikasa, head held high. «He's ashes»

«It's not possible. Marco can't...»

«Keep calm, Jean» said Connie. «You're not the only one who's upset. All of us are»

«It means they have not found him?»

«Jean, chill out» croaked Eren , but Jean was not listening.

He collapsed to his knees with his head in his hands tight shaken by heavy sobs, clenched teeth on the lower lip, her eyes full of tears.

«It's my fault, it's only my fault» he barked. «But Marco can't be dead. Stop talking shit, do tell me wh-»

Before he could notice, a hand snapped on his wet cheek .

«You're the only one who's talking shit, boy. Maybe it was not exactly his greatest ambition, and I'd easily understand why, but Marco died saving your life: you had to be there, in his place, so try to show that bit of gratitude you're capable of and stand up, if you don't want me to give you a good reason to whine»

Ymir's face was a few inches from him: grim, dark, covered with freckles and scars.

«Shut the fuck up. You talk like that just because she is whole»he growled, waving Christa and wiping his face with the back of his hand . Ymir got back on her feet.

«Reiner said he found you just beyond the kitchen door» she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. «I wouldn't have stopped there»

At that moment, Jean realized he had compared himself and Marco to Ymir and Christa.

Someone else came, crouching in front of him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

«We'll make it, Jean» Armin whispered, before approaching his lips to Jean's ear. «I do not think a gas leak killed Marco» he added, and the fleeting glance at their fellows made him realize that they all thought the same way.

He swallowed, standing up just as his legs wavered.

Whatever had killed Marco, Marco was gone for good, as well as his past life.

This was what Jean Kirschstein believed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my story, and sorry for my bad English.   
> Please, let me know if you like "1975", I'll love you forever.  
> Much love,
> 
> Timcampi

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is the first time I publish a fanfiction on AO3. English is not my first language, so forgive my mistakes, please.  
> This is also the first time I write a thriller story, so I wish I'll do a good job and I'll be able to entertain you.  
> Thank you for reading the first chapter, I hope to see you at the next one!
> 
> Timcampi


End file.
